


Those Who Defy Their Fate

by grlnamedlucifer



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Brief mention of self-harm, Character Death Fix, Crossover, M/M, Suicide Attempt, more fusion than crossover, writer as character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:38:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grlnamedlucifer/pseuds/grlnamedlucifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there was a Girl, a Boy, a Thief, and an Inspector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Who Defy Their Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the wonderful kink meme prompt requesting something I never knew I wanted: a crossover between Les Mis and Princess Tutu. Some things may be a little clearer if you're familiar with Princess Tutu, but it should work on its own as well.
> 
> Title is paraphrased from the PT quote/tagline: "May those who accept their fate find happiness; those who defy it, glory."

~*~

_Once upon a time, there was a Girl, a Boy, a Thief, and an Inspector. They were all part of a very grand story about love and redemption and magnificent tragedy, and they all met the end they should. The Thief was hunted and caught by the law, and he died. The Inspector fought to uphold the law until he was captured by lawbreakers, and he died. The Boy and the Girl met and fell in love and one day were wed and lived happily ever after._

_And so the story ended._

~*~

_Once upon a time, there was a Thief. The Thief was being hunted by an Inspector, for he had broken parole, stolen from a Man of God, pretended to be a Mayor, and other things besides. As he ran, the Thief stumbled across a clearing in the woods, where a Girl was drawing water from a well._

_The Thief watched the Girl for a while, thinking to himself how cold she looked with no shoes on her feet and dressed in no more than rags. How unhappy she seemed to be out in the snow doing such hard work._

“I wish there was something I could do to make her happy,” he said to himself. “But what could I do? I am only a Thief. I couldn't possibly make a Girl like that smile and be happy.”

_”What if you weren't?”_

The Thief looked about for the source of the voice. Had the Inspector found him so soon? Seeing no one besides himself and the Girl, he asked, “What if I weren't what? Who are you?”

_”What if you weren't a Thief? What if you were just a man?”_

There was still no face to attach to the voice. “But I cannot change what I am,” the Thief insisted. “Even now, an Inspector is chasing me to put me back in prison!”

 _”He will not catch you,”_ the voice promised. _”Do you wish to see the Girl smile or not?”_

The Thief looked back at the Girl, who was now struggling to carry the full, heavy bucket, with her tiny, frozen hands. “Yes,” he said. “I wish to see her happy.”

Suddenly a bit of silver fell from the trees, and landed in the Thief's hands. He saw that it was a ring. _”Here. Until, the Girl falls in love and you give this ring so that she can be wed, you will be a man. The Inspector will not catch you, and your true self will be kept secret.”_

He thanked the voice for this chance and, putting on the ring, Valjean stepped into the clearing to greet the Girl.

~*~

_Once upon a time, there lived a Girl whose mother had died. The Girl was left in the care of Treacherous People, who did not care for the Girl at all, but instead made her into a slave._

_One night, the Girl was wandering in the woods when she came upon a man. The man was gentle and good and took her away from the Treacherous People so that she could live with him instead. She called him Papa, and he did everything in his power to make sure she was happy._

Valjean smiled as he watched the Girl spin and laugh with abandon as they walked together. He was forever grateful for this chance to raise her as his daughter and considered every one of her smiles a gift.

For a long time, he had been constantly looking over his shoulder, forever expecting to be caught. But the Inspector had never appeared - never, it seemed, had discovered where they were. And Valjean let himself believe that they were free to be happy. But, as if someone had heard that thought and wished to prove him wrong, a situation appeared that he was unprepared for.

Before Valjean and the Girl appeared a chain-gang, making its way down the street. Valjean watched with sympathy and pity, but the Girl clutched at his hand in fear. “Papa,” she asked, “are they even men?”

Valjean reminded himself that the question was asked in innocence, though it made his heart hurt. “Of course they are,” he told her gently. “My dear, perhaps it's time I told you. I-”

_”No! You cannot tell her that!”_

Valjean started at the voice, recognizing it as the one from that long ago night. “Whyever not?” he asked it. “She is just a child, she doesn't mean to be cruel. I am sure if I explained-”

_”If the Girl knows you are a Thief, you will fade from the story.”_

Valjean stared at the empty air in confusion. “What? Why would I-”

 _”Because there is no place in this story for a Thief at this point, that's not how it goes!”_ the voice snapped. _”There is only a place for a man to play Papa. You wished to make the Girl happy, so you were given the role to do so.”_

“But can I not be both? Can I not tell her who I am, and be her father as well?”

_”The truth will come out in its time, but this is not it. Unless you wish to fade from the story, you must only be a man who is her Papa, nothing more.”_

“So I must lie to her,” Valjean translated.

_”Of course! How boring a story would be without hidden truths and sacrifices.”_

“Papa?” The Girl had heard none of this, and thus was confused by her father's lack of answer.

Valjean sighed. “Forgive me, my dear,” he said, smiling sadly. “I believe it's time we made our way home.”

~*~

_Once upon a time, there was an Inspector. The Inspector knew his role in the story very well, which was to uphold the law and to protect society from those that meant to attack it. The Inspector never faltered in his duty, no matter what it demanded, even when it demanded he place himself where he would surely be in danger. His dedication was what he took pride in. The Inspector couldn't do anything but carry out his duty, even when it would certainly lead to his death._

The man who was once a Thief dragged the Inspector through the alley behind the barricade. It was not the fate the Inspector had expected, having thought his role was to die at the hands of the Rebels, but he accepted it none the less. The man had, after all, once been a Thief, was _still_ a Thief as far as he was concerned. One lawbreaker was the same as another, and his death at this one's hands would prove it.

Which was why he stared in confusion as Valjean cut his bonds, instead. 

“I don't understand,” the Inspector said, staring at his now-freed wrists. This was not how it was meant to go!

“Clear out of here,” Valjean ordered.

“If you think I will ignore my duty,” the Inspector warned, “just because you let me go free-”

“I am a man, the same as you,” Valjean interrupted. “And I don't care if this is not how the story is meant to go. I will not take your life just because you've done your duty and followed your role.”

The Inspector stared in shock. Someone else knew of the story? Was that how this Thief had managed to disappear for so long? But then, why was he not playing his role? You couldn't change the story, or your role in it. Surely if he knew anything, it was that simple fact.

“If you must continue this,” Valjean said when the Inspector didn't move, “then you will find me at Number 55, Rue Plumet when all of this is finished. Now go.”

Numbly, the Inspector did as ordered, his mind still lost in confusion.

~*~

_Once upon a time, on the night of a rebellion, an Inspector and a man who was once a Thief found themselves working together to save the life of a Boy. The man did so because the Boy was the Girl's true love, and he had wished long ago to make the Girl happy, even though he knew her wedding meant he must fade from the story. The Inspector did so because he knew when this task was done, he could finally do his duty and bring the Thief to justice._

_And so, when the Boy was safely delivered home, the Thief went in to say his last goodbyes, before the Inspector-_

“No.”

_”...what?”_

“No,” Javert repeated. “This is nonsense. What justice does taking an old man away from his daughter serve?”

_”Be... because that's how the story goes! Because you have caught him, he is a Thief again and will be separated from her in a magnificent tragic ending and-”_

“Hang the story, I shan't be part of that,” Javert stated bluntly. “The man just saved my life and the life of that dolt of a Boy, both at his own expense. That's not how a criminal acts. What is the purpose of showing me a man can change if I'm meant to arrest him regardless?”

_”Because that's your role! The stubborn Inspector who can only perform his duty, no matter what!”_

“My role,” Javert argued, “was to die at the hands of those Rebels, but Valjean changed that. Why can I not now repay the debt?”

_”How can you be a lawman who ignores the law?”_

“Then I shall resign,” he said, with a decisiveness he didn't quite feel. “If Valjean can change the story to suit his needs, then I can damn well do the same.”

When Valjean happened to look down to the street, expecting to see the Inspector waiting, he was shocked to find that Javert had gone.

~*~

It was not quite as easy to change the story as Javert had hoped. Every step he took towards the station, he felt as if he was being pulled back to Valjean's home in order to go through with the arrest. Once he turned in his letter of resignation, he felt an almost overwhelming need to confess what he'd done, how he'd turned his back on the law. The voice had meant for the story to be a magnificent tragedy, and Javert's insistence on denying it was ruining everything.

Javert made it to the Pont au Change before he had to stop and just breathe. The voice was growing insistent, and it was hard to hear his own thoughts. 

_”There is another way, you know. A way to fulfill your roll in the story, while not turning the Thief in.”_

“He is a man,” Javert said, not for the first time, “not a Thief.” He paused, debating whether to humor the voice, before asking, “and what way do you mean?”

_”Only this: your role in the story was to die for your duty, was it not? If you were to die because you could not perform your duty, that would be tragically fitting, would it not?”_

Javert pondered this, as torn as he was so many years ago when he was offered a choice of which role to take. He could not, in good conscience, condemn Valjean back to the role of Thief. It seemed the voice - the writer of this damned story, he knew, would not let him ignore his duty so easily, and he was tired from fighting all night.

He found himself standing upon the parapet, without consciously realizing he had moved. Yes, the Inspector thought, this was the only way he didn't have to choose a path to follow.

From a long way away, he heard his name being called as he stared down at the river below. It was quieter than the cursed voice, though no less insistent.

“Javert, please!” The Inspector looked over to where Valjean had clasped his hand. When had he gotten here? “You don't have to do this.”

“This is my role in the story,” he argued, though the words were not quite his own. “Begone. This is the only way to accept my fate and still save you.”

“You don't have to accept it,” Valjean reasoned. “I have not. I've changed the story once, we can do it again together. You can defy your fate.”

The Inspector looked at the man who was once a Thief. “We can defy our fate,” repeated the Inspector, who was also a man, and Javert stepped back onto the bridge.

~*~

Javert sat at his desk, trying to think of what to write in his report. A few days after the night Valjean had rescued him twice, Javert had learned - much to his shock - that each and every suggestion he had written down in his ill-thought-out resignation letter had been followed through on. Where he expected to be dismissed or - at the very least - censured for his criticisms, he instead found himself commended, his job re-secured, and prisoners' lives improved. Subsequent letters had produced similar results, and he was now cautious to write more than he thought absolutely necessary. It was a ridiculous and superstitious, he was sure, but he found he couldn't help it.

As he heard the front door close, he looked up in surprise. “Valjean?” he called. The man had gone with the Girl to visit the dolt of a Boy she'd fallen in love with, but surely it was too early for them to have returned. When no answer came he called again, walking out to the main room. There he found the Thief standing in the middle of the room, starring into space.

“Valjean? Whatever is the matter?” Still no reply. Javert walked over and touched his arm, hoping to bring him out of his apparent trance.

The Thief jumped at the contact, his hands protectively raised before he seemed to realize where he was. “Forgive me, Inspector, I-”

“Jean,” Javert interrupted, concerned. “Where is your silver ring?”

The Thief looked down at his hands, blinking as if confused. “I gave it to the Boy. He and the Girl are to be wed, and it was meant for her after all.”

“And then what happened?” Javert asked, refusing to acknowledge the fear starting in him. Valjean had told him of when he'd gotten that ring, of what was meant to happen when it was given away. “Valjean, what happened after that?” The lack of response the name caused did not escape his notice.

“I,” the Thief answered slowly. “I told the Boy the truth. About who I really am.”

“Why?” Javert nearly shouted. “There was no need to do that! I am the only one who knew and you know I would do nothing with it. You were safe!”

“Truth is given in its time,” the Thief said, but Javert could tell they were not his words. He cursed. Valjean had asked him to join them on their visit, perhaps if he had they could have fought off the story's hold together. It had given up too easily that night on the bridge, Javert could see now that he had grown too complacent.

The Thief who was once a man gestured vaguely towards their bedroom. “I am so tired, suddenly. I think I shall get some rest.”

“Yes,” Javert said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead, though he doubted it was even noticed. “You do that. I shall be in shortly. I have some writing to finish first.”

The Thief nodded absently before heading towards their bedroom. Javert watched for a moment, before walking back to his desk.

“He is a man, not just a Thief,” he told the empty air, with a voice full of steel. “And even if he isn't, he is _my_ Thief. I will not watch him fade away just because of some blasted story.” With that, he began to write.

~*~

It was a week after the ring had been given away before Javert received any answer. A week where he wrote every day, struggling against the unseen writer who demanded the story end their way. A week where he watched his Thief fade away before his eyes. There was no longer a place in the story for a Thief. There was no place for an Inspector who ignored his duty either, and yet he remained. Javert wondered if that was intentional. If his oncoming grief, added to the Girl's, would be the tragedy the writer so obviously wished for.

A knock at the door roused Javert from his morbid thoughts. When he answered, an Officer handed him a thick enveloped addressed to Jean Valjean, stating it was from the Prefect of Police. Thanking the man, he headed towards their bedroom, calling Valjean's name, though he expected – and indeed received – no answer.

“Valjean,” he repeated, touching the Thief's arm to gain his attention. “This letter has come for you. I believe you should read it immediately.”

Javert attempted to hand him the envelope, but he seemed more immediately concerned with his Inspector's bandaged hand. “Why Inspector, what has happened? You look as if you've been stabbed!”

Javert shifted awkwardly. “You _would_ pick the most inconvenient time to finally notice,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “I merely had a disagreement with my pen,” he answered, shoving the envelope into the Thief's hands. There was no need for him to know of how the writer had attempted to wrestle control, of how Javert had almost written of the Thief dying of a broken heart, before Javert had violently put an end to _that_ storyline. “Read the damn letter, already.”

Javert watched as he was finally obeyed, hoping it hadn't been a coincidence, that he truly had found a way to fix this.

“Javert,” Valjean whispered reverently after a few moments. “What have you done?”

“If that says what I believe it does,” Javert replied, “then I've made them give you a pardon. You are no longer a Thief, you are a pardoned man. If you are no longer a Thief, then there's no reason for me to arrest you. If you're pardoned, it doesn't matter what you've told the Boy. And now you can't just fade away from the story,” Javert realized he was babbling a bit, but found he couldn't stop himself. “I've written you back into it now, so they damn well can't write you back out of it.”

Valjean laughed, a little hysterically. “You've written us a happy ending,” he whispered, raising Javert's injured hand to his lips and kissing it.

Javert's face turned a little red at the gesture, but he nodded. “I've written us the right to _an_ ending, in any case. The Girl can have her happy ending with the Boy. It doesn't matter now if she finds out the truth. I don't need to die to prevent it. You don't need to fade away because of it. And the writer,” he added with a rude gesture at the ceiling, “can go jump off a bridge himself, for all I care.”

Valjean laughed again, before capturing Javert's lips in a kiss.

~*~

_Once upon a time, there was a Girl, a Boy, a Thief, and an Inspector. The were all part of a very grand story about love and redemption and magnificent tragedy, but with an end the writer had not intended. For while the Inspector and the Thief worked together to bring the Boy and Girl their happy ending, they themselves refused to follow their intended roles. Instead, they became men, like any other men, and thus were free to live to the ending they chose._

_And so the story ended._


End file.
